Free Checking Inn by Emily Harper Page A

her fingers.  “Unless they didn’t sign in,” Tracy says, as though she has solved the case.
    “That’s what I figured too,” I say.  Which makes sense.  If I was going to kill someone I’m not sure I would stop at the local Inn and sign my name on the guest registry.  I mean, they killed someone, obviously they don’t have a lot of respect for the rules.
    The phone rings and Tracy stands up.  “I’ll let you get that.  I have to go make an eighty year old look like she’s sixty,” she winks before walking down the hall to the newly expanded spa.
    “Summerside Inn, Kate Foster speaking,” I answer.
    “Oh good, Ms. Foster.  It’s Glenn from Regal Insurance.”
    I scowl as I take my seat behind the desk.  This shyster again.  If he’s calling to say my premium has increased I’m definitely cancelling.  I don’t care how much the penalty is, there is spite involved now.
    “What can I help you with?” I ask.
    “I was speaking to your mother yesterday, about your situation there,” he says, and my whole body goes tense.
    “What– er–situation?” I ask. 
    There is no way my mother would have told this man about Samantha’s body.
    She knows she’s not allowed to talk to anyone about it.
    She knows I would be furious.
    “About the murder–”
    I’m going to kill her.
    “Okay!” I say, cutting him off and looking around to make sure no one can overhear our conversation.
    “Your mother was inquiring about your insurance policy, to see if the room would be covered in the event you wanted to redecorate it?”
    Honestly, I will ask my mom to do something: sign some tax forms, send a check to the gas company, order the meat from the butchers– and she still won’t have done it weeks later.  I casually mention to her yesterday that we  might  want to consider redoing the room at  some point,  and she goes and calls the insurance company that minute!
    “Unfortunately, because there wasn’t any actual physical damage to the room, you won’t be covered,” he says in a tone that I’m sure he hopes is apologetic, but it just sounds condescending.
    “Of course we’re not,” I say.  There are two things I actual  hate  in this world.  Insurance men and the phone company.  With the amount I pay in premiums, I’m pretty sure I could buy a whole other Inn.  I’m covered from shark bites for Christ sake, but a woman dies in a room and I want to change the linens and they won’t give me a penny.
    I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and peek around the corner to see Detective Gable sauntering down.
    My eyes widen and I quickly whip my head back around the corner.  I can’t let Ben know my mother talked to the insurance company.
    “Well, thank you for calling,” I say and try to look relaxed as Ben comes over to the desk and leans his arms on it.  I’m about to hang up the phone but Glenn is still talking.
    “I did want you to know I have sent the paperwork over for you and your mother to sign, before I can release the life insurance check.”
    “The–” I look at Ben, who is looking around the reception area, obviously waiting for me to get off the phone.  “The what?”
    “The life insurance claim.  You’re covered when a death occurs on your premise– in the event the death causes a problem with your business or causes unforeseen damage,” he says.  “Your mother added it to your policy last year.”
    My hand is shaking and I try and swallow the huge lump in my throat.  “She did that?”
    “The coverage is for one hundred thousand dollars, so obviously it is going to take a little time to get everything sorted.  You could use some of those funds, if you would like, to redecorate the room,” he suggests.
    “Yes, we’ll do that,” I say.  “I’m sorry there’s just a guest at the front desk.  Can I call you back a little later?”
    “Absolutely,” he says.  “Though maybe it would be best if I come down there and walk